The Third Prince’s face turned red in an instant, the flush spreading from the base of his neck all the way to the tips of his ears, as though he had been scorched by fire.
He opened his mouth to deny it, but no matter how hard he tried, the words would not come out.
Lowering his head, he stared at his toes. After a long silence, he finally managed to force out:
“Uncle, do you think a person can become a better version of themselves because of someone else?”
Du Ziteng looked at his nephew’s absentminded expression, and his heart gave a sudden lurch.
It was like a pebble tossed into a still lake, sending ripples spreading in every direction.
He remembered the moment he had seen Shi Huai in the Class A classroom that day. He remembered the feeling of something striking him squarely in the heart. He remembered the absurd way he had lain in bed, staring blankly at the beams overhead.
Du Ziteng closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, there was something indefinable in his gaze.
“Chengrui, tell your uncle. Did you meet someone?”
The Third Prince’s lips trembled faintly. His face was so red it looked ready to bleed, and his voice was barely audible.
“Shi Huai. Shi Huai of Class A.”
Du Ziteng leaned against the headboard, folded his arms, and stared at the ceiling beams for a long time.
So long that the Third Prince thought he had fallen asleep.
Then he heard his uncle let out a sigh so soft it was almost inaudible, followed by a cryptic question:
“Chengrui, do you know why I never cared for the imperial examinations?”
The Third Prince froze for a moment. He had no idea why his uncle had suddenly brought this up, but he answered honestly:
“You said you didn’t like the scheming and treachery of officialdom. You wanted to be a carefree man of refinement.”
Du Ziteng let out a laugh tinged with indescribable bitterness.
“A carefree man of refinement, huh? Heh. I’ve spent half my life studying the classics, thinking I was the one who stood apart and admired the scenery. I never expected that one day, I would become part of the scenery myself.”
The Third Prince didn’t understand what his uncle was talking about, but he could tell that his uncle was acting strangely today.
Well, just as strangely as he was.
Du Ziteng sat up in bed.
Looking at the anticipation written plainly in his nephew’s eyes, he remained silent for a long while before finally speaking, his voice filled with the helplessness of someone leaving everything to fate.
“I’ll help you speak to your father, but whether it works or not will be up to him.”
The Third Prince’s eyes lit up at once.
He threw his arms around Du Ziteng’s waist, his voice brimming with excitement and delight.
“Thank you, Uncle! Thank you, Uncle!”
Early the next morning, the Third Prince went to the palace to see his mother, Consort Rong.
Consort Rong was seated in her bedchamber, having her hair styled. She wore a lotus-root-colored palace gown, and a red-gold hair ornament strung with pearls swayed beside her temples. Thanks to her careful upkeep, her well-maintained face showed few traces of age.
In her early thirties, she was at the age when a woman possessed the greatest charm.
She was somewhat surprised when her son came running over so early in the morning. Then she noticed the excitement and urgency he was barely managing to contain, and her doubts only deepened.
The Third Prince sat down in front of her, picked up the teacup on the table, and took a sip to moisten his throat.
Then he drew a deep breath.
And launched into the ten reasons he had prepared overnight.
Consort Rong listened as her son went from “the Imperial College has an excellent faculty” to “studying and competing with people his own age will be even more beneficial to his academic progress”...
Every sentence was perfectly reasoned, and every argument was laid out in meticulous detail.
But the more she listened, the more suspicious she became.
She set down the comb in her hand and turned to look at her son, her gaze carrying a trace of scrutiny.
“Chengrui, be honest with Mother. Do you really want to go to the Imperial College just to study?”
Under his mother’s eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through everything, the Third Prince grew uncomfortable. He lowered his head and pretended to straighten his sleeve, his voice wavering slightly.
“Of course it’s to study. What else would it be for?”
Consort Rong reached out and took hold of her son’s chin, lifting his face. Mother and son looked directly into each other’s eyes.
“You’re my own son. Do you think your mother doesn’t know that, ever since you were little, you’ve hated being forced to study? Every time the tutor assigned you one extra essay, you threw a tantrum.”
“And today, you actually took the initiative to ask to go to the Imperial College, and even prepared so many reasons...”
“Chengrui, do you take your mother for a three-year-old?”
The Third Prince’s face flushed instantly, the color spreading from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. His lips trembled several times before he finally managed to squeeze out:
“Mother... I-I just think the Imperial College is quite nice. I want to go take a look.”
Consort Rong released his chin and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as she studied her son’s guilty expression. A meaningful smile slowly spread across her lips.
“Let Mother guess. Did you meet someone at the Imperial College? Someone who made you think the Imperial College was ‘quite nice’?”
The Third Prince’s face grew even redder, as red as a boiled shrimp. He looked as though he were being roasted over a fire, shifting restlessly in his seat.
He opened his mouth to deny it, but found that his voice was stuck in his throat and refused to come out.
All he could do was lower his head and stare at the tips of his shoes, twisting his fingers together over his knees until his knuckles turned white.
Looking at her son’s utterly smitten appearance, Consort Rong felt both amused and exasperated.
Just whose child was this person who could make her proud, high-minded son lose three parts of his soul at first sight?
And even have him prepare ten different reasons overnight just so he could attend the Imperial College?
“What is this person’s name?” Consort Rong asked, lifting her teacup for a sip. Her voice was so calm that it revealed nothing of her feelings.
The Third Prince’s face grew even redder, as though it might start bleeding. His voice was barely audible.
“Shi Huai, Young Master Shi Huai of the Marquis of Yongning’s household.”
Consort Rong’s teacup paused halfway to her lips, and her brows drew together slightly.
Shi Huai. She had heard that name before.
At the poetry gathering hosted by the Emperor last year, a child had written a poem beginning with the line, “It comes like a spring wind overnight,” causing a sensation throughout the capital.
It was said that even the Emperor had praised it extravagantly and rewarded the child with numerous gifts on the spot.
It was also said that the child was exceptionally handsome—handsome enough that anyone who saw him once could never forget him.
Consort Rong set down her teacup. Looking at her son’s flushed face and eyes filled with anticipation, she picked up the cup again and took another sip.
The tea was the finest Longjing, sweet on the tongue with a lingering aftertaste.
Yet she could taste none of it.
“You want to go to the Imperial College. Mother won’t stop you, but you must promise me one thing.”
Consort Rong put down her teacup and raised her head to meet her son’s eyes.
The Third Prince’s eyes lit up at once.
He leaned forward, his voice tense with eagerness.
“What is it? Tell me, Mother. I’ll agree to anything.”
Consort Rong reached out and tapped her son on the forehead with one finger.
The force was neither light nor heavy, but it made the Third Prince go rigid.
“Study hard. Don’t bring shame to the imperial family, and don’t let Consort Yi, Consort Shu, or the others think that Consort Rong’s son is an ignorant wastrel.”
The Third Prince nodded vigorously.
It was exactly like the way a poor student, after receiving their midterm or final exam results and being sternly reminded by the teacher to have their parents sign the paper, would swear to the heavens that they would absolutely apply themselves from then on when faced with the impending punishment.
As for whether he would truly study after achieving his goal and getting past this hurdle—in other words, after getting the signature—or whether he would...
Then I have no idea~
